


A Small, Pleasant Thing

by SquirrelHatesNuts



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dark is a right mess, Gen, Pre-ADWM, Pre-AHWM, Working things out, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22994677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquirrelHatesNuts/pseuds/SquirrelHatesNuts
Summary: Sometimes, the memories got a little louder, the pressure of the past pushed a little harder. Dark tried his best to distract himself from it all.Maybe that was part of the problem.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	A Small, Pleasant Thing

**Author's Note:**

> take it, just take it, I can't look at this anymore

Some days, the ringing was a little too loud.

Alone in his office, the shadows suffocated Dark. They always did. His presence leeched the colour off the walls, the tables, and everything around him. He shuffled through the papers on his desk – bills, financial statements, lawsuits. Another misplaced baby in Edgar’s inventory; an injured guest star at Wilford’s show. At least nobody died this time.

Dark sighed, abandoning the papers. It was days like this he hated, when the pressure of his past became all too much. His weary heart ached to be put to rest, his lungs eager for the signal to stop. Forcing a broken body to continue living was a contradiction all on its own. Blood pulsed through his veins, but he was cold to the touch, chilled as a corpse. He could see, hear and feel, but the taste of food and drink had faded away long ago.

Well. A good thing that the dead had no need for such things then.

‘Darkipoo! You in?’ Wilford barged into the room the way he always did – without any prior warning. ‘Of course you are!’

He waltzed over and planted himself on the edge of Dark’s desk. Colour followed him close, returning to the room what Dark always removed. He let it surround him, though it stopped short of Dark’s immediate personal space.

Wilford jabbered on, talking about another idea he had for _Markiplier TV_ – and as much as Dark supported his friend’s idea, the name always sent a sharp twinge of hatred through him – as he waved his hands around and waggled his pink moustache. Such a far cry from the character he was before, Dark thought, not for the first time. Not that Wilford was any less harmless for it.

‘–just think of all the ratings! Who doesn’t love confetti?’ Wilford stilled, widening his eyes. Then he continued, pumping his hands in a shake with each word, ‘Confetti _and_ bubbles! They’ll eat it up like rocky road ice-cream.’

‘It’s…interesting,’ offered Dark.

In truth, he hadn’t been following Wilford’s chatter. Today, the vibrant colours that normally tampered down the anger simmering in his core were just another reminder of everything that had gone wrong. At the end of it all, they were still just characters at the mercy of an entity he still wasn’t sure was _what_.

Wilford Warfstache, the trigger-happy psychopath who’d spiralled into an insanity he’d long since accepted. Abe, stuck in a constant loop of chasing down the man responsible for the bloodbath at Markiplier Manor. Markiplier, the delusional, egotistical manipulator with a twisted hero complex. Darkiplier, his so-called nemesis, sworn to search him out and strike him down.

What a group they made – an intricate spiderweb of vengeance and justice and utter, utter insanity.

And when Dark finally dealt with Mark, then what? Would the House abandon this body? Would what was left of Celine and Damien be left to flounder? Where would they even go?

Fingers snapped, inches from his face. Dark blinked, drawing back.

‘Hello, Earth to Dark?’ said Wilford. He put his hand down, rustling papers. ‘Did you hear anything I just said?’

‘Your ideas have been noted,’ lied Dark. He stood up, pushed his chair back a little more harshly then he’d intended. ‘Put together a script and I’ll look it over at a later time. I have…business, to attend to.’

‘Well, okay then.’ The words were said casually enough, but the minute hesitation in Wilford’s voice betrayed his uncertainty. Even as Dark stepped past him, heading for the door, he could feel Wilford’s eyes on his back. Colour fled away from the display cupboards, cabinets, walls as he passed. ‘You sure you’re okay?’

Dark paused. Angled ever so slightly back to Wilford.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Why, is something the matter?’

He could hear Wilford’s shrug. ‘Seems like you’re a little spacey, is all.’

‘I assure you, I’m doing quite fine,’ said Dark. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me.’

He left his office, the door shutting itself behind him. The hallway outside broke off into a pair of grand staircases, spiraling down to the main hall. His brow twitched.

Egos Incorporated was a temperamental building in the best of times and an absolute nightmare in the worst. It wasn’t enough that it was a multidimensional hotspot for anyone who shared _that_ man’s face, oh no. Its constant, impulsive, shifting infrastructure proved to be a nuisance. He could only be thankful that it redirected people to wherever they wanted to go when asked politely, most times. Otherwise, he feared those without the advantage of teleportation would be left to fumble their way through the halls of Egos Inc.

‘Blasted building!’

Here came one now. He watched as the King of the Squirrels burst out into the corridor, two doors down. A jar of peanut butter tucked under one arm, King glared back at the door he’d emerged from as it slammed shut and shook his fist.

‘I’m the King of the Squirrels! You can’t treat me like this!’

‘It would appear that the building’s in a playful mood today,’ said Dark, folding his arms behind his back. His words had King jerking upright, ramrod straight, but he recovered fast, slipping on a nervous smile.

‘Uh. Yeah, it would seem so,’ said King. He approached, entering a comfortable conversational distance, then stopped. His free hand fisted into his cape.

The King of the Squirrels was one of the oldest standing Egos to date but he’d never quite lost his nervousness around Dark. Dark couldn’t blame him for it – intimidation radiated off of him easily enough – but it still brought on an edge of irritation to see it after all this time.

‘I assume you’re headed to the forest for your colony?’ said Dark.

King nodded.

‘Just came back to grab this is all,’ he said, gesturing to the jar under his arm.

‘I can take you there, if you’d like,’ said Dark.

‘Oh no!’

Dark tilted his head. Amusement glinted in his eyes as King scrambled to turn his sharp rejection into something more amicable.

‘I-I mean, I wouldn’t want to trouble you, Dark. The building did take me to the main hall–’ Here King gestured towards the spiraling staircases, with their marble steps and polished banisters, and the sight tightened Dark’s throat. ‘–so I’m fairly certain I’ll be able to make my way out now.’

Dark sighed.

‘Indulge an old friend, would you?’ he said, and had to wrestle back down the bitterness that rose up when King responded with a confused frown. Bitter of the role he’d been forced into, bitter of the wariness and cold looks, and the near constant expectation that one day he’d rise out of the shadows and kill them all in their sleep. He forced it all back down because if these feelings manifested into his aura, he’d only result in scaring off King.

Today, he’d deviate from his role. Just a little.

The House made no complaint.

King took a moment longer, scrutinising him warily, before shrugging with resigned acceptance.

‘That would be nice, Dark. Thank you.’

‘Not a problem. Some fresh air would do me some good.’ He stepped closer, right into King’s personal space. King made to move away, but Dark grabbed his arm. ‘Stay close. Wouldn’t want you to lose your head now, would we?’

It was done without much fanfare – their surroundings fizzled out, red and cyan clearing to reveal greenery and the fresh, damp atmosphere that always lingered in forests. Dark stepped away, tugged on the lapels of his suit. King looked around.

‘Well, it’s the right forest,’ he said, ‘but we’re nowhere near my kingdom.’

‘We could use the walk,’ said Dark. ‘Besides, I don’t believe you’ve ever introduced me to your…subjects.’

‘Right. I don’t believe I have,’ said King. He shifted his weight from one foot to another. Glanced around. Dark waited. King sighed.

‘Would you like to meet them?’ he asked.

Dark smiled, which only made King tense further. ‘It would be my pleasure.’

They spent the walk in silence. The forest made up for it with the incessant chirping and buzzing of cicadas, overhead birdsong, and the occasional distant rustle in the bushes. Colour stayed where they were around Dark, his typical ringing and creaking absent. He’d pulled in his aura, forced his shell to stay in place. If there was anyone else in these woods, all they’d see was a suited man on a walk with the King of the Squirrels.

‘Why the interest today?’ said King.

‘Hmm?’

‘In my squirrels, I mean. You’ve never shown any interest in what I do before.’

This entire endeavour had been impromptu, if Dark was honest. He’d just needed to leave Egos Inc. Be somewhere else where he could pretend that he wasn’t what he was. Repress the memories and regret that tended to surge up for no good reason on days like these. The worst part was that days like these didn’t have any _reason_ to be the way they were. The pressure, the hurt, it all just rose up to swallow him whole for no _damned_ reason other than they just _did_.

Of course, he wasn’t about to admit all of that to the King of the Squirrels. Of all people.

‘I’ve been reflecting on our history,’ said Dark. ‘It’s quite a pity that, in all the time we’ve worked together, I’ve never taken the time to know you better. And since I’ve time on my hands today, I thought I’d remedy that.’

‘That’s nice,’ said King. ‘Are you going to tell me the truth now?’

Dark rolled his eyes to the canopy above. ‘Is it so hard to believe I’m capable of bonding?’

‘Maybe. But you forget that I’m royalty. I know politics.’

‘You rule squirrels.’

‘The point being,’ King continued, hurrying over the remark, ‘I don’t think you’re okay. You’re hurting and you’re trying to hide it. You _have_ to hide it – or at least that’s what you think.’

‘And what makes you so certain, oh wise King?’ said Dark. He met King’s eyes, his hands folding behind his back.

‘You look sad.’ It was said simply and King turned away, shrugging. ‘You look like you’re thinking of something you wish had never happened and you don’t want to think about it.’

Dark stopped in his tracks. His hands were vice-like, clutching each other so hard that bone threatened to give. King continued a little further before he realised he was walking alone and turned to face him.

There was no pity in his face. That made it all the worse because instead of sympathy, there was _empathy_. Like the King of the Squirrels – of all people – knew how he felt. It was insulting, that this Ego, with hardly a backstory or even a personality to his name, could deign to think, for even a single second, that he could relate to how Dark felt.

‘You’d know all about that feeling, wouldn’t you?’ he sneered. A low ringing sound piped up, faint enough that one would have to concentrate to pick up on it. ‘With feeling hopeless, _helpless_ , as you watch everything change and push _you_ into changing along with them and afterwards–afterwards, all you can do is remember how everything _was_ and never will be ever again?’ He’d stepped closer at some point, brought his face close to King’s and bared his teeth. King, to his credit, hadn’t backed away, though he trembled like a leaf in the gale that was Dark’s chilly anger.

In spite of his obvious fear, King set his jaw.

‘I’m not trying to say I understand whatever happened to you. But I was friends with the Author,’ King said. He lowered his gaze, a wistful look in his eyes. ‘I know a little about watching someone you care about change, irreversibly.’

Dark narrowed his eyes. Then, with a _hmph_ , he stepped around King.

‘Are we any closer to that colony of yours?’ he said, his back turned.

‘I-oh. Right. We’re a little ways away from them. And for the record, it’s a kingdom, not a colony.’

King took the lead forward and Dark followed. The woods thickened as they trudged on. Thoughtless branches snagged on Dark’s suit; he tsked, angling away from them. That earned him more pokes from his other side. It all lead to an awkward dance of squirming between brambles. He was about ready to call it a day when King announced their arrival.

‘My fellow subjects! Your king has arrived!’

Pulling his sleeve free of a particularly stubborn twig, Dark looked up.

It wasn’t anything different from what he’d been expecting. The thicket of trees they’d made their way through widened into a clearing, a sturdy oak tree standing tall in the middle. High above, the canopy broke apart into a bright ring of sky. Beady, little eyes peeked out from holes scattered across the ground. Chittering sounded from above; squirrels looked down at them from branches and tree holes.

Then a squirrel leaped from the oak tree, gliding down to King’s shoulders. As if an unspoken signal had been set off, the rest of the squirrels scrambled down the trees and out their holes towards them, gathering around King’s feet. Some of them climbed up his legs and clung on, while others settled on his arms. A couple stopped by to sniff at Dark’s shoes. He stared down at them, disdainful. They were quick to move on towards King.

‘Hey, guys, how’ve you all been?’ said King, beaming away at the scurry of squirrels around him. The flying squirrel on his shoulder chittered at him and he nodded along. ‘That’s good, that’s good.’ More chittering. ‘Oh boy. Uh, just tell Grumps to lay off the kids, they’ll learn well enough on their own.’ Another round of chittering – this time, the squirrel scooted closer to King’s ear, almost leaning into it as he listened. Then they both turned towards Dark.

‘This is my, um. This is Dark, a…friend,’ said King. ‘Dark, this is my Royal Advisor.’

Dark eyed the squirrel. It stared back, ears upright, tail twitching. He folded his hands behind his back.

‘A pleasure,’ he said.

It chattered back at him.

‘She, uh, said to watch yourself,’ said King. The look Dark sent him wasn’t particularly malevolent but King backed up a step anyway. ‘She’s not very comfortable with strangers.’

The squirrels milling around them were beginning to disperse.

‘You’re not going to feed them?’ said Dark.

King let out a short laugh. ‘What, me? They don’t need me for that.’ He turned away, heading over to the oak tree. The squirrels on him, sans the Royal Advisor, leapt off, scampering back towards the trees and the bushes. King sat down against the oak tree’s trunk and the Royal Advisor wound around his neck to sit on his other shoulder. He set down the jar of peanut butter. Dark, who’d followed him, stood a few paces away, unwilling to admit his confusion.

‘They’ve got their food all handled, though I do help out sometimes in the winter season,’ said King. ‘I’m just here to supervise, make sure nothing goes awry. Keep predators away, stop fights from breaking out, all that jazz. It’s important for a kingdom with this many squirrel species in it.’ He waved a hand dismissively. ‘I’m just the King, not part of Provisions.’

‘Right,’ said Dark slowly. King patted the grass next to him, inviting.

Dark thought of the work he had back at the office. The lawsuits he had to address, the financials to file, the research he knew lay untouched in the side drawer on the left of his desk. He thought of constant grey and ringing and creaking.

He sat down next to King.

Brushing off his suit, he folded his legs at the ankles as he leaned back. The Royal Advisor chittered, climbing around King’s chest to settle on the shoulder furthest from Dark. He pointedly looked away into the distance. A squirrel wasn’t worthy of his attention.

They sat in silence for a while. Mostly. King crunched on his peanut butter. The forest buzzed with chittering squirrels and critters scuttling in the bushes. Dark exhaled.

‘I thought you’d knew,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘My history,’ and for a second, their surroundings shattered, fractured into grey. As quick as it came, however, it was gone. ‘You don’t know anything about it, do you?’

King’s breathing had picked up considerably. The clearing, previously filled with squirrels, was empty. Dark didn’t deign to look at him, staring adamantly at a drifting puff of cloud crossing the sky ring above.

‘Y-yeah. I don’t.’

‘Why not? I believe Google made quick work of informing everyone about the YouTuber.’

It still agitated him to this day. When the Egos had begun filing in after Wilford’s appearance, Dark hadn’t told them about Markiplier, YouTuber or otherwise. Considering that his and Wilford’s pasts were up on display for anyone and everyone to watch at their leisure, he wasn’t in any hurry for them know the reason their dimensions had been merged into this one’s. Google, when he’d figured it out, had no such reservations.

‘Ah. Well. I’ve never really gotten into all that–’ King gestured vaguely. ‘–online stuff. Besides, knowing that apparently everyone’s past is out there for everyone else to see… taking a peek doesn’t sit right by me.’

‘How considerate.’

‘It doesn’t matter either way,’ said King, ‘The past is the past.’

The green of the grass, the blue of the sky, the brown of bark and soil; they all fled, chased away by cold grey. Ringing pitched up, accompanied by distant creaking. Dark hadn’t moved one bit, his gaze still locked onto the sky.

‘How easy it must be for you to say that,’ he said, softly.

The forest had quieted. The noises from the critters, the insects, the birds – all gone in the presence of a new, unknown predator. He could _smell_ the fear radiating off King, the tense form of the body that sat next to him.

So then, it was a surprise when King’s next words were calm.

‘No, it’s not easy.’ There was a soft huff of laughter, entirely unamused. ‘Did you know that the Author wrote me into being his friend?’ At this, Dark turned his head to look at King with a raised eyebrow. King shook his head. ‘He found me curious. And out of everyone, I was the easiest to manipulate. Said I was the “least fleshed out”.’

‘You stayed friends with him, though,’ said Dark, more incredulously than he would ever admit. ‘Even when he became the Host, you were still there.’

King shrugged. ‘He wrote me into being his friend, but stopped when he realised I was there even when he didn’t write me to be. When I found out, it hurt, and…well, it took a while, but I eventually realised that if I forgave him and still wanted to be around him, it wouldn’t be anyone's choice but mine.’

‘Unless he manipulates you again, which would be easier now that he’s the Host.’

‘He’s different now,’ snapped King, ‘and he’s moved on from his old ways.’

‘And if he hasn’t?’

‘Look, the point is, you can’t change the past. It’ll always hurt. But it's what you choose to do, for the future you want for yourself, that matters. I won’t pretend my experience is in any way similar to yours–’

‘I died.’

King fell silent.

‘And they couldn’t let me stay dead,’ Dark continued. ‘I was brought back, my soul less than whole, with a broken body and everyone else–everyone else had changed. _I_ had changed.’ He folded his hands on his lap, his movements precise, his veins stark against his grey skin. ‘I’m not who I was before and I–’

‘ _I’m afraid_ ,’ lodged in his throat. His lips tightened, unwilling to allow those two words to pass through. The ringing pitched higher, higher, a steady stream of white noise. His shell fragmented, splitting off into two agonised copies screaming, snarling, for the briefest of moments, before it composed itself.

He was afraid. Afraid of what came next if he carried through with his promise. Afraid of where this insanity would take them if he put an end to Mark’s story. Afraid that perhaps, this time, he would truly die for good. Afraid of what lay in wait that was far worse than death.

The House was, after all, a creative entity.

‘ _I’m afraid_ ,’ was only two words, but they held far more fears than Dark would ever be comfortable to admit.

A hand gripped his shoulder, gentle but firm.

‘You’re hurting them,’ said King, before Dark could say anything, before he could pull away. ‘Dial it down a bit.’

“Them”? There was no one else here but the two of them.

Then Dark caught sight of the trembling ball of fur pressed into the nook of King’s neck.

Dark shut his eyes. Inhaled. He composed himself, pulled his shell together. The ringing died down, the creaking faded, and when he opened his eyes, the sky was as brilliant a blue as it had been before. The need to regain some semblance of control burned and he rose to his feet, rolling his neck and shoulders. They cracked obediently, bones popping back into place, and he exhaled.

‘I apologise for my loss of composure,’ he said, turning to look down at King. ‘I trust your subjects weren’t too frightened?’

The Royal Advisor unfurled into a flurry of rapid chittering and tail twitches. King glanced between the both of them, releasing a nervous laugh.

‘I’m not going to translate that,’ he said.

‘Hm.’ Dark cast his gaze around the clearing. ‘I expect you’ll keep whatever you saw today to yourself. Otherwise…well. It’s a very nice kingdom you have here. It’d be a terrible shame to see it fall.’

‘You don’t have to do that,’ said King, dismissive. Dark turned back to King, eyes narrowed. ‘I won’t tell anyone,’ King continued. The Royal Advisor nibbled his hair. The peanut butter jar had long been abandoned, set aside on the grass. ‘I’m sorry. About what happened.’

‘Don’t be,’ said Dark. ‘You weren’t involved.’

‘I’m still sorry. It’s a horrible thing to happen to anyone.’

‘Well, if it would make you feel better, you’ve helped me realise something today.’

‘Oh yeah?’

Dark tilted his head, thinking on his words before he spoke.

‘I’ve been…distracted,’ he said. ‘All this time, handling the Egos, hesitant to do what I must.’ He clasped his hands together. ‘I can make a choice, and I will. So thank you for reminding me of what I have now.’

‘Er. You’re welcome?’

Dark shook his head. To think he’d gotten advice from the King of the Squirrels. Of all people.

Turning on his heel, his aura burst out in a flare of grey and he disappeared.

Back in his office, Dark stood behind his desk. A bright pink sticky note, defiant in the sea of grey, winked up at him from where it was stuck on top of his paperwork. The scrawled, loopy handwriting on it read, ‘Glitter and bubbles and maybe a guest appearance? How about it?’

‘Well? Sounds good, doesn’t it?’ An all-too-familiar arm slid around Dark’s shoulders, pulling down as Wilford drew close. He twirled the end of his moustache, wiggling his eyebrows.

‘Waiting around here for my return completely defeats the purpose of a sticky note,’ said Dark. Plucking the note off his paperwork, he waved it in Wilford’s face. Wilford took it, scrunched it up and tossed it off to the side.

‘Whaddya think, then? A guest appearance would do wonders for the show!’ said Wilford. He spread his arm out, continuing, ‘Imagine! Dark: Prince of Shadows! The mysterious entity that lurks in the dark, watching you in your darkest dreams…hmm, no, that’s too many “dark”s in there.’

‘As lovely as that sounds, I don’t think it’s time for a guest appearance from me just yet,’ said Dark, dryly. ‘But I’m sure you’ll think of something else.’

‘You’re no fun,’ said Wilford, pulling away in a pout. He folded his arms, huffing. ‘Fine then, but you’re helping me and Bim figure it out in the studio! It’ll be more fun than paperwork.’

Dark glanced down at his desk – not towards the paperwork, no. His gaze drifted to the side drawer on the left of his desk, shut tight and locked. He looked back at Wilford. Wilford, blissful under his own insanity, trigger-happy with no real bloodthirst, waiting for his answer.

Dark wondered where Detective Abe was. Wanted to know where Mark was.

Right then, it gripped him – a desire that burned so fiercely till he was sure his already ashen heart was charred by it. He’d made a promise to make sure that Mark would _stay_ dead but he would never be able to fulfil it as long as that rotting snake was still out there. He’d have to work harder. Search harder. Prepare faster, so that when he found him, he could watch Mark’s soul _crumble_ beneath his fingers, squashed, snuffed, stamped out for _good_.

Things did change. None of them would ever be the way they were before. That was a fact of life – and oh, the irony of that statement.

Such was life. It spilled irony, sparked tragedy and brewed misery like its own personal, infinite pot of coffee. It dealt the cards and they’d all been beaten by Mark’s hand. Even then, Dark could still pick his own moves. He could still choose what he’d do next and _nothing_ beat the idea of choosing to watch that smug, shallow excuse of a corpse collapse and die.

What came after wasn’t something to be concerned about. All that mattered was Mark, dead, _permanently_.

That was what he was made for. That was why he was here.

Dark smiled, a small, pleasant thing.

‘Lead the way, Wilford.’

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write an angsty oneshot but the story ran away and I guess now it has a plot? sort of? I've ideas for more fics so maybe??
> 
> the idea of a friendship between the King of the Squirrels and the Author was inspired by [Im_The_Doctor's work](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13557327), which is delicious, so check it out! the rest of their stuff is great too. I've no idea how to link on this site.
> 
> come talk to me on Tumblr if you want, I'm under the same username.
> 
> EDIT: figured out linking!


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